


Just Not Here Right Now

by allisonnewsfieldfromspaaaacee



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-13
Updated: 2015-07-13
Packaged: 2018-04-09 03:38:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4332396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allisonnewsfieldfromspaaaacee/pseuds/allisonnewsfieldfromspaaaacee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A York/Carolina fic, still a work in progress. Probably won't update super often, but stick around for more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Not Here Right Now

_**The gunshot hung in the air like**_ a long, final note from an orchestra, before finally fading to make way for solitary applause.

A tall man stood at a window, staring out at the room newly silent room, save only for his rhythmic clapping. The window slid open automatically.

“Well done, Agent Carolina. It seems your position on the board remains secure.” His voice was slow and deliberate, drawling and accented. His eyes shifted behind his glasses, gaze landing on a figure on the floor. “Agent York, to be entirely honest, I expected more from you. I do hope to see more effort on your part in the field from here on.” His eyes narrowed. “I will not entertain such failure again. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, sir!” said the figure on the floor. His yellow armor was spattered with the hardening balls of paint the figure in blue had just unloaded into his chest and shoulder. He struggled to stand, but remained firmly cemented to the floor of the gym.

The man simply raised his eyebrows and wheeled around, walking off as the window shutters quietly hissed shit.

The concrete blocks peppering the gym were retracting into the floor as the figure in blue crossed to help up their opponent. York extended his arm up and Carolina grabbed it, pulling him up with a crack of the paint. “This stuff stings like a bitch,” he said, brushing brightly colored dust from his armor.

“I think the goal is not to get hit by it,” replied Carolina, her voice sarcastic and deadpan.

York’s lips curved into a smile under his helmet, sparing a glance at Carolina through his visor. “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind next time.” He straightened up, stretching his arms out behind him and groaned. “Still though, a little bit harsh of him, you think? I mean, it’s not like I’ll be fighting an army of yous out there, is it?”

Carolina shrugged. “It was a stupid mistake. Anyone can make a lucky shot,” she started toward the door in stride, “it’s up to us to see it coming.”

“Hey, wait!” York leaped after her, wishing he could see what was going on inside that helmet of hers. “I see them coming, you just caught me off guard.” His helmet hissed as he unsealed it and pulled it off.

“That’s exactly why we run these exercises, York. You have to pay more attention.” She rounded on him, causing him to jerk to a stop. “If you made that mistake against someone who wanted you dead? You would have made today their lucky day.”

York’s heart was beating quickly, her point being made sharply like a blade to his stomach.  He felt her eyes burning into his even behind her helmet. “You understand? The last thing anyone around here wants is to be put on recovery for one Agent New York, so work on that, okay?” Her voice was rising, enough to where York was surprised when no one turned heed toward their conversation.

“Carolina, I know…”

“You say that, so show it! I know I sure as hell don’t want to put my life in your hands if that happens out there, or the life of my team! You’re great at getting us into a place, but you can’t always rely on us to get you out!”

“But…” His spirits plummeted, as she whipped around and disappeared around the corner on her way toward the armory.

“She’s right, you know,” came a voice from below. A small green figure was standing there, in midair, not ten inches away from where he held his helmet. “You really should pay more attention in combat situations. Also, I’ve noticed a decrease in accuracy of your attacks by 13.7 percent when in combat against Agent Carolina. I’ve been meaning to inquire about this.”

“Yeah, shut up Delta,” said York, feeling embarrassed. Carolina’s reprimand was still stinging more than the paint she had shot at him with.

“I’m also noticing an increased level of hormonal stimulation when conversing with Agent Carolina. I’m assuming there is some correlation between these two phenomena?”

“Again, D, just shut up, okay?” York looked around, both eyes wide in concern that someone was overhearing his conversation. No one seemed to be paying any attention. “Not cool, man. Not cool.”

“I apologize,” said Delta, retreating back into York’s armor, leaving York alone in the gentle trickle of people moving through the hallway.

He sighed to himself. There was no arguing that what Delta was noticing was correct, but it didn’t make it any less embarrassing. So what if he thought Carolina was cute? So what if sometimes  he wondered what it would be like to run his hands through that soft red hair? To look into those deep green eyes and see something more than compatriacy reflected back in them? Maybe, just maybe, someday to see her laugh, carefree, not held back by all the stress and competition forced on her every day.

He shook his head, clearing these thoughts from his head, and started his way to the armory, his armor still speckled with dry paint.


End file.
